The Ghost of Adora Grey ~ Catradora

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The closer she got to the bridge, the louder the sound of the rapids became. The sound was entrancing enough on its own, no mysterious woman in white necessary to draw forward the curious mind.

So, imagine Catra's complete and utter disbelief when, after ditching her bike a few feet away, she walked to the bridge's entrance only to see there was a woman standing there. Alone. Leaning over the railing.

Or: Fluffy ghost-hunting shenanigans (guys is wear the angst is barely even there...non-corporeal even)

•••••

Catra was only being dramatic, of course. Nobody was actually forcing her to go to the bridge all by herself — she just liked to complain. Not to mention, if she really played up the guilt tripping, she might get some of Scorpia's classic apology cookies for her troubles.

Alas, this video could have waited another week. It could have waited another month, realistically, but Catra was all about Authenticity and Results. If Entrapta said that the first week of November was historically the time of highest paranormal activity over by the old Forge Cliffs, then she'd be damned to not at least try.

The Forge — twenty minutes away from her dorm and one of Catra's favorite places to visit. Its rough and jagged cliffs were perfect for watching the late-afternoon sky turn to dark amber as the sun set, descending below the tree line of the Whispering Woods, the warm orange light making the fall leaves look as though they were on fire.

Cutting through the base of the cliffs, separating the rocks from the woods, was a small winding river; though, what it lacked in size, it quite made up for with its rushing, dangerous waters. The whole shore was fenced off. Depending on the day, a few steps too close to its rapids could drag someone under in seconds. The closest anyone ever got to the white foamy water was when they were directly over it, crossing the Forge Bridge, an old rickety hunk of metal that looked like it would cave at any moment.

Most people were too scared to even get close. Catra was not most people. Her roommates, on the other hand, were absolute cowards for not coming with her. (More accurately: Entrapta had pulled two all-nighters in a row and was dead to the world, passed out on the living room rug. Scorpia was still a coward.)

"If I die," Catra had said on her way out the door, "It is absolutely your fault."

She only halfway meant it. With her bag slung over her shoulder, she biked through the woods at a steady pace. It was overcast, a low fog hanging in the air but it didn't look like it'd rain anytime soon either, so no warm oranges for her to bask in today. Catra didn't mind. If anything, it set the spooky tone that she wanted for her video. The greyscale world would do just fine.

What would be better for her woman in white?

That's the story she was investigating, a quite popular urban legend for those who knew the area. As legend goes, the Forge Bridge wasn't always haunted. One day though, on a night not too unlike this one (Catra laughed when she read back that line that she'd wrote for herself over a week ago), a young couple were walking through the woods when they got into a fight — no one knows exactly what the argument was about, but most guess there were talks of infidelity — when they came across the bridge.

Upset at her lover, the woman tried to run away. The story changes around here too, depending on the speaker. Some say she slipped. Others swear she was pushed. No one would really know, of course, except the woman's partner. But, as she attempted to make her escape to the cliffs, she instead found herself tumbling over the railing, into those terrible waters down below.

Again, accounts differ. Most claim there was never even a couple at all, just like there was no Bigfoot or Steve Harvey. After all, there were no records of a body ever being found in those waters or in any of the diverging streams.

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